


in all faith and tenderness

by glaukopis (glaux)



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glaux/pseuds/glaukopis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May 1977: Carol and Therese attend Rindy's wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in all faith and tenderness

The sun was crying fire as it set over the links of the Ridgewood Country Club. Automatically, Therese lifted the Nikon SLR from her chest and snapped a picture. Maybe sunsets were a cliché subject, but she loved shooting them in color.

Therese followed the flagstone footpath across the gently sloping lawn, away from the ballroom. There, leaning back against the railing that cordoned off the pool, contemplating her cigarette and seemingly indifferent to the sunset that was pinking the underside of the periwinkle clouds, was Carol.

Her face had thinned over the years, but that only accentuated the apples of her cheeks when she smiled at Therese's approach. "Therese," she greeted, throaty voice sending a familiar zing up Therese's spine.

"I was wondering where you'd got to," Therese replied lightly. She plucked the cigarette from Carol's hand but didn't chide the ostensible ex-smoker. After all, seeing your only child marry would send most people searching for a cigarette. Therese could use one herself; she closed her eyes to take a long drag.

Out of practice, she handed the cigarette back, coughing; Carol smirked and used one perfectly manicured fingernail to tap the ash.

Therese adjusted the Nikon's weight against her neck; that had been her wedding gift to Rindy: photographing the whole celebration free of charge. It also gave her a reason to be present; even Abby, Rindy's godmother, hadn't made the guest list. Therese was privately relieved that she hadn't spent the reception in Carol's shadow, constantly having to be introduced as a longtime friend of the bride's mother. It had been irritating enough having Harge's stooped and wrinkled mother staring at Therese like her presence was a personal affront.

Therese noticed Carol's gaze bounce off her lips. "You look very fine," Carol commented, eyes crinkling in a suppressed smile.

Therese glanced down at her outfit: since photographing events generally involved a lot of bending and crouching, she had worn a pantsuit; on reflection, that definitely hadn't endeared her to Harge's mother, but then nothing ever would. She returned the compliment honestly: "You look beautiful."

Carol quirked an eyebrow and turned back toward the railing, leaning on it heavily, but Therese could see her flush; she would never stop being amazed by how this woman responded to her, even now, even after all this time.

Mindful of her camera, Therese settled onto the railing beside Carol, strategically placing a hand palm up; Carol covered it with her own, and their fingers interlaced.

The darkening evening was chilly, but not unbearable, and they watched the lights from the clubhouse play on the surface of the pool, or at least Therese did. She wondered what Carol was thinking. Probably about her relief that Rindy was finally settled; she had mentioned that earlier in the week, and Therese had tactfully refrained from pointing out that at Rindy's age, Carol hadn't yet separated from Harge, and in that respect, Rindy had figured out her life a lot sooner than her mother had. Or maybe Carol was thinking of her own wedding day, a wartime affair that had lacked all this rigmarole.

After Rindy and her husband's first dance, Rindy had danced with her father and the groom with his mother. Then Carol had entered the fray, and there had been a complicated series of men cutting in on each other until everyone had been danced with. Therese had gotten some good shots of Carol being spun by her new son-in-law, and Carol had even laughed at something Harge had said during their thirty seconds in each other's arms. Harge's wife had joined him after that and Carol, partnerless, had returned to her seat.

Now the band that Harge had hired was in between sets, but someone had put on a record, loud enough for them to hear a woman singing about making loving fun.

"About time for us old folks to clear out," Carol observed, stubbing out her cigarette against the railing.

Therese thought the song had a nice beat, reminiscent of rhythm and blues, like something that they would dance to in their apartment, drinking and laughing until the air between them electrified. She pulled the camera off over her head and lowered it gently to the flagstone. A glance back at the country club showed only yellow windows shining like pats of butter. They weren't completely hidden, but there was a hedge around the pool, and who was going to look out, much less pick them out in the twilight.

Carol glanced at Therese's swaying hips. She smiled, full and wide, and warned, "Behave."

Of course Therese would take her cues from Carol tonight, but she couldn't keep from teasing, "You know, I didn't get my dance earlier."

Carol didn't move from the railing, but turned her head toward Therese to say very seriously, "I love you."

Therese rubbed her thumb against her unadorned ring finger. _I'd marry you, Carol_ , she thought but didn't say. Instead, she grabbed the camera strap and nudged Carol with her shoulder. "Come on, Mrs. Belivet, I'm off the clock now. Let's make our farewells."

Carol barked a laugh. "All right, Mrs. Belivet." She held out her elbow, and they walked toward the ballroom arm-in-arm.


End file.
